christmas as an adult

 via

it's rainy and warm in north carolina. it is muggy and humid, and this weather is a fickle mistress to the corporate air conditioner. even the coffee mug under my hands is sweating.

and i've got the radio set on chistmas music. i've adorned our mantle with holly from the bush beside the porch and a nativity scene is resting on our coffee table, delicately perched upon the wood, baby Jesus shaking every time pablo knocks into it.

but it doesn't feel like christmas of old. when schoolwork ceased for a few days and we breathed a sigh of december relief in the form of cheery word searches and crossword puzzles, busywork of the best sort. when the skies were gray and cold and snow lurked around every sunrise. where the christmas tree was real, in that small corner of the living room. when i was tucked into bed beside my sister and for one second that somehow spanned into an entire month, all was well with the world. now, there are tests and papers and office work and appointments. there are days i feel like all i do is drive.

so what to do? we make our own traditions, our new little ways of celebrating. we decorate the office windowsill in lights and stay up late to watch lifetime movies under the artificial fraser fir. we put a too-heavy santa hat on pablo's head and take pictures as he paws it off. we replace the late night coffee run with eggnog and the ice cream with reindeer sugar cookies. we address christmas cards to our bosses and bring in fudge for the company kitchen.

it's not going to be the same. it never will and it was never supposed to. but to equate the magic of christmas with the magic of childhood is an unfair comparison. but that's not to say it's not a spectacular time to shed a little of our adult selves and sink into the glory of the holiday. to bring in a little of the old and mix it ever so gently with the new. to forge new paths and bridges over new rivers, one eye looking behind us at home in the distance, the other focused on the shore just ahead.

a rebirth

 xxx 

and i’ve lost my way to the fields in late summer

to mama’s vegetable soup and tire swings

reading alice and wonderland under the shade tree out back, where the flies buzz and sweat pours slow and

sweet like honey

to the school bus and paper airplanes. the whistle of the driver to quiet after-school giggles

swing-sets and merry-go-rounds

to dad in the driveway. hugs in the doorway

to days spent with grass between toes, dodging sharp rocks. and mud puddles

first dates and last kisses

riding my bike down the country road by our house
warm wind resting at my feet like a basset hound

all replaced by the rusty gears of morning and faceless, busy phones

so i search. in early evening, dawn and late, slow afternoons

for that feeling to heal me again

to restart, even if just for a day and taste, savor and devour this life all over again as a child

so today i lift my head to heaven and pray for rain to run in

or maybe just sun to warm my heart back to infancy